Black Friday
by BoomerCat
Summary: Virgil comes home for Thanksgiving. A story from the Tracy's life before International Rescue
1. Homecoming

_Authors note: Well, here's a fine pickle... After my last disastrous submission, I announced to all my friends that I was leaving the fandom, end of story. But then, a stupid plot bunny got entirely too aggressive, and my only option was to write. For those of you unfamiliar with Black Friday, in America, it is the day after Thanksgiving. The traditional beginning of the Christmas shopping season, it is so called because stores that have operated at a loss, 'in the red', all year can make up their losses on this one day, and be 'in the black'. The sales start as early as 5am and can be have lowest prices of the year. It is a crazy shopping day, with thousands of people on the roads and in the stores and is definitely not for the faint of heart._

**Black Friday**

23-year-old Virgil Tracy shut down his Porsche Sportster and sat back, limp with exhaustion. He stared out through the windshield at the old farmhouse that had been his home until just a few months ago when he had graduated college and taken a job in Houston. The house, with windows lit, offered such a sense of welcome, that Virgil just sat for a few minutes drinking it in.

It didn't take long for the chill of the Kansas night to seep into the warm car, and with a sigh, Virgil got out, stretching away the long hours of driving before reaching across to the passenger seat to grab his duffle. By a habit ingrained over the years, he took the steps up to the porch two at a time, somewhat surprised not to have been assaulted by at least one of his three younger brothers.

He knew his father wasn't expected home until early the next morning, and his eldest brother, Scott, had not been able to get leave, but his brother John was home from college and Gordon had just graduated from basic training at the Naval training base in San Diego. Alan, of course, was still charming teachers and teenage girls at Kalvesta High.

Quietly opening the front door, Virgil found the house strangely peaceful. He frowned as he dropped his duffle at the foot of the stairs. There should have been the ruckus of a houseful of young men. There should have been the smells of Thanksgiving dinner. There should have been football on TV. Instead there was a preternatural quiet.

Suddenly worried, Virgil headed for the nerve center of the household, the big farm kitchen. Pushing through the swinging door, he found his beloved grandmother standing over the sink with her back to him. Seeing her there, tidy in her work apron peeling vegetables, gave Virgil a sense of rightness in the world.

"Grandma, I'm home." Virgil said, the familiar words contributing to his feeling of truly being home.

"There you are!" Ruth Tracy turned, her face wreathed with delight. "And it's about time, too! Come sit down, have a cup of coffee. How was your trip, sweetheart?"

Virgil instinctively sat in 'his' seat, accepting the mug his grandmother handed him, holding it up as she filled it with coffee. Taking a sip, he nodded. "Mmm, that's good, Grandma. Well, getting out of the city was just crazy. It took me over an hour to go five miles, but once I got out on the highway it wasn't so bad."

"You should have flown, honey. There's very little point in owning that plane if you don't use it."

Virgil smiled. His grandma didn't see the point of the little Neo-Jenny that he had built with Scott's help a couple of summers ago. The storage and upkeep were expensive, especially on his junior engineer's salary, but it was a good little plane, and apart from that, his only other vice was art supplies. "I know, I probably should have. But, you know, that car is just so much fun that I wanted to let 'er out."

Ruth pursed her lips. "That car."

Virgil grinned openly. The Sportster had been a graduation gift from his father. It was fast. It was slick. It was fast. The only problem had been getting his speed-freak father to actually turn it over to him. "Yup, that car. Hey, where are the guys? It was so quiet coming in, I thought I came to the wrong house there for a minute. And for that matter, where's the turkey? Surely you didn't let them eat it all?"

"The boys aren't here, they're in Kansas City…"

"Kansas City? What the hell… uh, I mean, heck, are they doing in Kansas City?"

"Well, they want to do some shopping tomorrow, and they decided to get a head start on it."

Virgil blinked. "They left you alone on Thanksgiving?"

"Oh, now, don't make it sound like high treason. I told them it was all right. It actually works out better this way. I'll cook the turkey tomorrow, and we'll all be here together. Well, except for your brother Scott." Ruth's voice was tinged with regret at that statement. Scott had not been home for the holidays for three years running, and his absence created a huge hole in the fabric of the Tracy family.

"So no turkey sandwich for me?" Virgil sighed wistfully.

"Not until tomorrow. For tonight, I've made you a pork roast."

Virgil perked right up. "Oh man. Grandma, I dream of your pork roast! It costs me a fortune in pillows. I wake up with them soaked in drool."

Ruth wrinkled her nose. "I don't think I needed to hear that. You go wash up, and I'll get it on the table."

"You are the best, you know that?" Virgil headed for the front of the house where he had dropped his duffle. Sweeping it up, he headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His bedroom was just the same as the last time he had been here. Models of famous aircraft hung from the ceiling, the walls were covered with sketches and artwork. Tossing the duffle on the neatly made bed, he headed to the bathroom.

Splashing water on his face did a good job of clearing the tiredness of the eleven-hour trip. Drying off, he headed back to his bedroom. Listening for his grandmother, he closed the door softly and pulled out his cell phone. Fast dialing a number, he sat on the edge of his bed.

"Hey, Virg! You make it home yet?" His brother John's grinning face appeared.

"Yeah. I did. I found Grandma here alone."

John's smile tightened at the tone. "Okay, so, you have a problem?"

"John, it's a goddamn holiday, and you idiots left her alone. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Whoa. You need to be sure of your ground before you fly off the handle there, Virg."

"Bullshit. All I need to know is she's alone."

"I'll tell you what. You calm down, and we'll talk about it when we get home." John's eyes were narrowed in anger.

"Don't you hang up on me… John… Don't you…" Virgil swore under his breath. He hadn't even realized he was mad until John had answered the phone. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. Staring at his phone, he considered whether to try again.

His head came up at the muffled tone of the house phone ringing downstairs. He immediately flushed with anger. If John were calling to squeal on him, he'd kick his butt all the way back to Harvard. Putting the cell phone down on the bed, Virgil headed for the kitchen. As he came down the stairs, he heard his grandmother's voice in the kitchen, but when he pushed through the door, she was hanging up the phone.

"Who was that?" he asked, not sure that he really wanted to know.

"Alan. Sit down, honey, I don't want your dinner to get cold."

Virgil sat warily, but Ruth made no indication of what the conversation had been about. Instead, she continued to bring bowls and dishes to the table. Virgil whiffed appreciatively at the aroma of roasted pork and potatoes. In addition, there was homemade applesauce and asparagus in Ruth's special vinaigrette sauce. "Oh, Grandma, you spoil me."

"Would you like some milk with that, or just coffee?"

"Milk would be great." Virgil waited patiently until Ruth seated herself. Together they said a simple grace, and then Virgil dug in.

"Now, sweetheart, I want to hear all about Houston, and what you're doing there, but first, let me clear something up. I was looking for a reason, any reason to put off Thanksgiving until tomorrow. I wanted both you and your father here to enjoy it." Ruth reached across the table to take her grandson's hand. "So when Gordon said there was something in the ads that he really wanted, I was all for him going. Of course, there was no question about Alan joining him, and so I insisted that John go too, to look after them."

Virgil looked at the elderly woman with a deep abiding love. "Okay, Grandma. I just don't like the idea of you being here all alone."

"Well, now, your father is talking of moving to that island of his next summer, and with Alan graduating and going off to college, I'll be alone anyway, so you'd better get used to the idea." Ruth replied tartly.

"Wait… I just assumed you'd be going to the island with Dad…"

"So does he, but this is my home. I have no need or desire to leave. Your dear mother, and grandfather are buried just down the road, and all of my friends are here."

"But Grandma, you shouldn't be alone!"

"And why is that? You think I'm some frail little old woman? Some ninny without the resources to spend time alone? I'll have you know, young man, that I have not taken leave of my senses just quite yet. I've never been cosseted in my life, and I don't need to be now."

Virgil held up his hands in surrender. "Grandma, I never doubted that for a minute, but you'll just have to forgive me for thinking you deserve to be cosseted and coddled and put up on a pedestal to boot!"

Ruth tried to maintain a severe look, but the smile crept through. "Humph. Normally, I'd say flattery will get you nowhere, but I just happen to have an extra pumpkin pie that we might as well cut into tonight."

Virgil's eyes brightened. "Well, if you say so…"

Ruth smiled with love in her eyes, watching her grandson eat with enthusiasm.


	2. Sudden Greed

Two hours later, Virgil sat on the couch, belly full, with the local newspaper spread out before him. Normally, the Kalvesta Bulletin was a four-page affair filled with news of local church functions and farm reports, but for the holidays, it was bulked up by advertisements from businesses both local and far. Life in the country meant that the bulk of a family's shopping was done online, but still there was the weekly exodus on Saturday morning to Dodge City, some 25 miles away, for provisions.

Virgil perused the newspaper looking for names he knew. It didn't take long. He turned his eye to the pile of thumbed through ads. Curiously, he riffled through the ads, wondering what was so important it warranted leaving home on a holiday. His attention was sharpened when he came to an ad for Hoverotts.

Peering closely at the ad, he let out a breath through his teeth. He called out to the kitchen, "Hey Grandma? Do you know what store the guys were going to?"

When there was no immediate answer, Virgil got up and poked his head through the kitchen door. "Hey, Grandma, do you know what store the guys were going to?"

Ruth looked up from the stove where she was preparing stuffing for the next day's big dinner. "Actually, they have a number of stores they want to go to. Why?"

"Friedlings has Hoverotts on sale."

"Hoverotts? What on earth are Hoverotts?"

"Oh, they're this special kind of artist's lamp. I've been trying to get my hands on one forever."

"Well, I don't know for a fact that Friedlings is on their list, but why don't you give them a call? I'm sure they'll be happy to pick one up for you."

Virgil ducked his head. He wasn't quite so sure, not after how he had yelled at John. "Um, are you sure you don't want some help, Grandma? I could cut the bread for you?"

"Thank you, but no, I'm fine. You go call your brothers. I'll be done here in a while, then we can play some Gin."

"Okay, Grandma." Virgil retreated back to the living room. He stared broodingly at the ad for the lamp, trying to decide if he wanted it enough to grovel. Sighing, he decided that he did, but he put off the necessary call, looking through the rest of the ads to see if there was anything else he wanted.

After thirty minutes, he had a list of five items including the lamp and a leather jacket. The prices were just too good to ignore, the day after Thanksgiving having the biggest sales of the year. Sighing, he went up to his room and picked up his cell phone.

Several minutes passed before he could bring himself to dial. John's eyes were hooded when he answered.

"Virgil."

"John."

"Do you hear a buzzing?"

Virgil blinked. "What? A buzzing?"

"Yeah. That's the sound of me, not taking any crap from you."

"Yeah, okay. Listen, I'm sorry. It was a long drive."

Suspicious, John cocked his head. "So this isn't Round Two?"

"No, man, it's not." Virgil rolled his eyes. "So where are you guys?"

"We're in the parking lot of Best Buys, on Horner Street in K.C."

"Why Kansas City? Couldn't you have gone to Wichita or Topeka, for God's sake?"

"Ah, well, our little brother is a military man now. He's got this whole thing mapped out like a battle campaign. If we'd gone to Topeka or Wichita, we wouldn't have been able to hit as many stores as he has lined up."

"So it's not just Best Buys?"

"Oh, no indeed. We're all three hitting Best Buys, which opens at five in the morning, then we split up. I'm scheduled for CompUSA, Tegrim's and Goldfingers, then we all meet at Lenshin's for breakfast. To hear Gordy tell it, we'll be on our way home by ten a.m."

"Ten A.M.? You won't be home until four at the earliest!" Virgil couldn't hide his disappointment.

John grinned. "Didn't Grandma tell you? We flew the ten-seat over. We'll be home by noon at the latest."

A slow smile started on Virgil's face. "You qualified?"

"You had a doubt? I qualified weeks ago. I called Dad up and he said I could fly anything in the hangar."

"But why the ten-seat? It flies like a pig."

"Yeah, but we're shopping. We need the space." John said it like it was obvious.

"So, will you pick up something for me at CompUSA?"

"Sure. What did you need?"

"They have a CAD program on sale that I want…"

"Wait a minute, let me get out the ad."

"You have the ads?"

"Sure. Okay, which one is it? The E-Trak one?"

"No, look down in the corner. See the one from Morton Industries?"

"Uh, $479.00 one? Yeah, I see it. Okay, I'll put it on the list."

"Thanks, John. Uh, is anyone going to Friedlings?"

"Yeah. Gordon, I think. Here…" The picture jiggled as John handed his phone to his younger brother.

"Hey, Virg! Good to see you, man!"

Virgil smiled. "Hey, squirt! I hear you guys are doing some major power shopping."

"Oh heck yeah! We're kickin' butt and takin' names."

"Well, what is it exactly that you're getting? Grandma says you took one look at the ad and practically mowed her down getting out the door."

Gordon grinned toothily. "A ToyBox 190. They're on sale for a thousand bucks."

The ToyBox was a self-contained total entertainment system the size of a doubled fist. It could hold thousands of High Definition movies and music and came pre-programmed with over 100 extreme level games. The virtual technology meant that no monitors or other screens were necessary. Virgil nodded, feeling a sudden avarice. "Don't suppose you could pick me up one?"

"Sorry, Virg. Each store is only guaranteed to have fifteen in stock, so they're only allowing one per customer. They're handing out tickets for all the best stuff before the store opens. I'm sixth in line, then Alan, then John, and already there are a couple hundred people behind us."

"But it's only ten PM!"

"I know. The guy at the front of the line got here at like six this morning."

"That's amazing. Are both John and Alan getting ToyBoxes?"

"Yup. Sorry."

"That's okay. Listen, Johnny tells me you're going to Friedlings."

"Uh-huh. You need something?"

"Yeah, see if you can score me a couple of those Hoverotts, would you?"

"Hoverotts? What the hell are those?"

"They're on page three of the ad, okay? I want two if you can get them."

"These light thingies?"

"Yes, that's them."

"You are truly weird, you know that?"

"Look who's talking." Virgil commented. "Oh, and while you're there, if you could pick me up some titanium white, I'd appreciate it. The oil, not the acrylic."

Well used to his brother's paint preferences, Gordon nodded. "Okay, anything else?"

"Is anybody doing Kale's?"

"Oddly enough, I am. You want some tighty-whities?"

"No, smart-ass. There's a leather bomber jacket on sale. Could you take a look at it? It looks pretty good in the ad, but I don't want it if it's cheap."

"Virgil, I fear you are a bit weak on the concept here… We are POWER shopping. We are not exactly taking the time to finger the goods. It's grab and run, get it?"

Virgil sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, all right. Not sure I'd trust your judgement anyway."

Gordon laughed. "Never fear, big brother. I was going to snag one of those jackets for myself. I'll get it. Anything else?"

"Who's going to Zottners?"

"Zottners? Nobody. What's there?"

Virgil sighed. "Apparently nothing."

The phone suddenly shifted, and Virgil heard muffled conversation. Suddenly, Alan was there. "Hey big brother! I'm going to Gamestop. It's right next door to Zottners. Whatcha need?"

"Are you sure, Al? It sounds like you guys are on a tight schedule."

Alan grinned cockily, "You know I'm faster than either of these geezers. I can do your shopping and still beat them to Lenshin's!"

Virgil smiled at the muffled protests in the background. "That's great. I want a couple of those blue silk ties, and get me a half dozen of the long sleeved shirts on page eight of the ad. No pink, just yellow or white, okay?"

"Size seventeen neck, right?"

"Aw, you remembered!"

Alan grinned. "Hard to forget… your neck is the same size as your head, except where it comes to a point, of course."

Virgil rocked back for a moment considering, then said, "Ah, I get it. You think I'll be beholden to you for getting the clothes and I won't thump you when you get home."

"Ha! You'd have to catch me first!"

"We'll see. You guys going to be okay there? You need me to come help?"

"Naw, we're fine. We brought a couple of heat lamps, and a coffee maker. We're really popular here in line."

"Yeah, well, I'll think of you all as I snuggle down in my nice warm soft bed."

"What was that you said? You only want pink shirts?"

"Bring home pink shirts, and you'll be eating them, kid."

Alan laughed. "Okay. See you tomorrow."

"All right, take care. Bye."


	3. Fairy Tale by Firelight

Virgil shut his phone off to the chorus of good-byes from his brothers. He sat for a moment, a smile on his face. Deciding a fire would be nice, he headed out the door to the woodpile, picking up several logs of well-weathered oak.

As he expertly laid the wood in the big fireplace, his Grandma came in bearing a tray with coffee and cookies. "Oh, what a nice idea! I'll just set up the card table here in front of the fire, and we'll play a few rounds of Gin."

Virgil got the fire going, and pulled up a chair to the table. "I'm feeling lucky tonight, Grandma. Deal those cards."

Ruth smiled and shuffled the cards, dealing out a hand of Gin. They had played companionably for a while when Virgil looked up at the front door, a smile on his face. Ruth glanced up when Virgil neglected to pick up a card. "What's wrong, honey?"

Smile even wider, he said cheerfully, "Nothing now."

He got up just as the door opened. Scott entered, looking sharp in his uniform. "Hey! You're still up!"

"Oh." Ruth stood up, eyes shining, holding her arms out. "Oh, you've come home!"

Scott crossed the room in three strides, sweeping the small woman up in his arms. "Yes, ma'am. Surprised?"

Virgil stood back, his face aching from the force of his grin. Ruth didn't look like she'd be letting go anytime soon, a situation that seemed to satisfy Scott eminently. Still holding her tightly, he reached out a hand which Virgil shook with pleasure. "Hey, there, Virg, lookin' good, man!"

"You too, bro. Good to have you home."

"Everyone else in bed?"

"Not so's you'd notice…"

"Oh, it is so good to have you here! Are you hungry? Have you eaten? You're so skinny, they don't feed you enough. There's some pork roast in the fridge. Let me just go heat it up."

Scott chuckled. "I ate dinner a while ago, but I wouldn't mind a snack. How about a turkey sandwich?"

"You'll have to wait a while." Virgil said dryly.

Not quite getting it, Scott smiled, "Why's that?"

Ruth raised a finger to stop Virgil from explaining. "Well, now, I decided not to do a turkey today. Your father isn't due home until tomorrow, and with Virgil not getting here until late, I decided to do the turkey tomorrow. Now with you home, we'll have an old-fashioned Thanksgiving, with all my boys here."

Ruth sniffed, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. Scott grinned. "Excellent!"

"Now you boys just have a chat, and I'll get you a hot pork sandwich. How does that sound?"

"That sounds great, Grandma."

As the elderly woman headed for the kitchen, Scott took off his coat and plopped down on the couch. "How you been, Virg?"

"I've been great. How long is your leave?"

With a huge smile, Scott said, "Five weeks."

"Five weeks! That's fabulous! You'll be here for Christmas!"

"Yes. Don't tell Grandma, but after Christmas, I'm being posted overseas. I'll be posted at Izmir for at least fifteen months."

"Izmir? Where is that?"

"Turkey."

"Oh, God."

"Keep it down, Virg… Grandma will hear you!" Scott frowned. "Listen, it's a fast track position."

"It's a combat zone."

"So? Did you think I joined the Air Force just to wear the snazzy uniforms?"

"Scott…"

"Virgil, don't say it. I'll be fine, you'll see. And I'll be a Major before I'm thirty."

Virgil bit his lip on his fears, saying instead, "So you intend to outrank Dad by forty?"

"By thirty five." Scott said with conviction.

Virgil shook his head. "I don't think the old man will be too happy about that."

"Tough shit. So, where is everybody? Out on dates?"

"No, actually, the boys are all over in Kansas City."

Scott frowned. "What the hell are they doing in Kansas City?"

"They're shopping."

"What?" Scott blinked in confusion. "What store is open on Thanksgiving?"

"None, actually. They are standing in line at Best Buys. The store opens up at five tomorrow morning, and they wanted to be first in line."

Scott stared his disbelief. "You're kidding."

"Nope. They've been over there all day."

"They left Grandma all alone on the holiday?"

"Don't even go there. Grandma practically pushed them out the door. She got a bug in her ear to have Thanksgiving tomorrow, and I think she was glad to be rid of them for the day."

"Virgil! Don't you put words into my mouth!" Ruth entered carrying a tray laden down with plates.

Scott leapt up to take the heavy tray from her. "Grandma! I said just a snack! You've got enough here to feed the entire squadron!"

Ruth cocked her head and commented wryly, "Well, you HAVE been gone a long time, haven't you?"

Perplexed, Scott replied, "Huh?"

"Dear heart, the 'entire squadron' is standing right there next to you."

Scott looked over at Virgil, who just shrugged his shoulders. "I can't help having a healthy appetite."

Both Ruth and Scott chuckled at the disarming statement, and the two men helped themselves. Watching fondly, Ruth asked, "How long is your leave, dear?"

"Well, I'm hoping you can spare a room until the twenty-ninth."

Disappointed, Ruth sighed, "Only two days? That's hardly enough to say hello."

Swallowing a bite of sandwich, Scott grinned, "The twenty-ninth of December, Grandma."

To both Scott and Virgil's surprise, Ruth brought her hand up to cover her mouth, dismay in her eyes.

Cautiously, Scott asked, "It's okay, isn't it? If you're having company or something, I could go stay with Virg… I meant to spend some time in Houston anyway…"

Ruth waved away to the comment, asking bluntly, "Where will you be posted, Scott?"

Startled, Scott replied, "Uh, excuse me?"

"Scott, look me in the eye, and tell me where you will be posted after this leave of yours." Ruth commanded.

Old habits die hard, and Scott could not lie when asked so directly. "Izmir. That's in Turkey, Grandma."

To Virgil's surprise, Ruth merely nodded, then pale-faced, left the room. Scott shook his head ruefully, "I should have known I couldn't put anything over on her."

"Nobody ever claimed she was dumb." Virgil replied, a worried frown on his face. "You think she's okay? Should we go talk to her?"

Slowly Scott shook his head. "No, she'll be fine. She's a hell of a lot tougher than we ever give her credit for."

Virgil started to get up, unconvinced, but Ruth was already returning, a small wooden box clutched in both hands as if it were something precious. At a mute gesture of her head, Virgil scooted down the couch so she could sit between her two tall grandsons.

She handed the box to Scott, who, glancing at her for permission, opened it up. With a finger he reached in and pulled out a long tarnished silver chain threaded through what looked like a child's ring. Holding it up, the dangling ring sparkled and danced in the firelight. Curious, Scott asked, "What's this, Grandma?"

Ruth grasped Scott's arm, as mesmerized by the shining trinket as the two men flanking her. "Well, you boys know my Grandma Ettie had the Sight." Both men nodded, having grown up with stories of their ancestor's gift. "The story as it was told to me goes like this: One day when Grandma Ettie was but a little girl, she woke up in a state. She wept and she wailed until her mother and father were beside themselves. Nothing would comfort her, and she grew so hysterical that her daddy bundled her up in the wagon to take her over to Garden City to the doctor. Of course in those days, it was quite a trip, and the entire time my grandma just cried and cried.

"They finally pulled up in town, and before her father knew what was what, Grandma Ettie had jumped down from the wagon and gone flying up the street until she came to the general store. Her daddy found her staring in the window at a display of rings. He tried to take her away, but she wouldn't leave, she just stared at the rings. Finally she told her daddy she had to have one of the rings. Now, her daddy wasn't much of one for nonsense, but he couldn't refuse his little girl anything, so they went in the store to buy one of the rings. And not just any of them although by all accounts they were identical. She would only have just the one she wanted. Well, her daddy bought that ring, and tried to put it on her finger, and she said no, if the ring ever slipped a finger, its power would be lost. Well, her daddy didn't know what to think, but buying the ring had calmed Grandma Ettie right down, so they went home without ever seeing the doctor, and her daddy made this little box for her to keep her ring in."

With an enchanted smile, Virgil reached over to reverently pick up the small box still sitting on Scott's knee. "This was made by my, what, great-great-great grandfather?"

Scott and Ruth both watched as Virgil inspected the box closely, examining the joins and the small carved bird on the top. Ruth smiled, "Yes, he did. He made that box, and Grandma Ettie placed the ring in it, and put it in the back of a drawer, and to all intents and purposes, it sat there forgotten for many years."

The three sat in silence for a few minutes, the two men each examining a treasure from the past. Scott eventually shook himself from his reverie and asked, "Is that all there is to the story, Grandma?"

"Oh, no, not by a long shot." Ruth said firmly. "As I said, the ring sat in the back of a drawer for many years, and Grandma Ettie grew up into a fine-looking young lady. She had many suitors back then, and one of them, of course, was Grandpa George. She favored him right from the beginning, but then the Great War, World War One came along, and Grandpa George felt it was his duty to go and fight."

"He got the Navy Cross." Scott said.

"Yes, he did." Ruth nodded. "But before he left for training, he came to say goodbye to Grandma Ettie. He came with a ring to propose." Ruth's hand went to the wedding ring on her finger.

"Is that the ring he proposed with?" Virgil asked curiously.

"Yes, honey. He was just a wheat farmer, and he had no money of his own, but his own dear mother gave him her mother's ring. Anyway, he came and asked for Grandma Ettie's hand, and she, of course, said yes. Then he told her he was shipping out. Well, she went into a trance right then and there, and went into her bedroom and came back out with the box that her daddy had carved all those years before. She pulled out the ring, and told Grandpa George that if he would wear the ring on a chain around his neck and never put it on his finger, he would return safely to her."

Both Virgil and Scott's eyebrows raised up on their foreheads. Scott started warily, "Grandma…"

"Now, hear me out. My Grandpa George was as hard-headed a wheat farmer as Kansas ever produced, and he took no stock in what Grandma Ettie said, but he loved her so much that he promised to wear it. As you boys know, Grandpa George fought under General Harbord at Belleau Wood. The first day of that battle, half of his platoon died, and most of the rest were wounded, but Grandpa George survived without a scratch. He fought in several other battles, but he returned to Grandma Ettie with nothing more than a scar on his cheek. When he got home, Grandma Ettie took back the ring and put it back in its box."

"So, you think the ring had something to do with Grandpa George coming home?" Scott asked doubtfully.

Virgil had his own question. "Grandma, I thought Grandma Ettie was just a water witch?"

"She was. I remember watching her do it when I was just a little girl. She could pick up any old stick of wood so long as it was willow, and use it to dowse water. She saved many a farm around here."

"I never heard of a water witch dowsing magic rings." Scott said skeptically.

"Well, now, understand, I'm not saying the ring is magic, or anything like that. What I will say is, Grandma Ettie brought it out again when my daddy joined the marines like his daddy before him, and went off to fight the Japanese, and he survived a horrific battle without a scratch."

Scott looked more interested. "What battle, Grandma?"

"My father fought in the Battle of Tarawa." Ruth said with considerable pride.

Scott's jaw dropped. Virgil frowned. "I don't think I ever heard of that one."

"The marines lost over 3,000 men in two days." Scott said. "Grandma, you never told me he fought at Tarawa."

Ruth ducked her head. "Dad never would speak of it, but it haunted him all of his life. It must have been a terrible sight, all of those fine young men struck down. But the point is, he wore the ring and survived, as did my Grant in Viet Nam, and your own father in the Gulf War. Here, give me the box, Virgil."

Virgil handed over the box, and Ruth reached in, pulling a tiny tab. The bottom of the box proved to be false, coming out easily when the tab was pulled. As the two brothers watched in fascination, Ruth reached in and pulled a handful of small metal pieces. "These are the dog tags."

Scott reached over and took the handful. With awe, he held them up. "This is Dad's! And Grandpa's!"

"Yes, they're all there, back to Grandpa George. You hold the history and honor of the Sampson and Tracy families in your hand. Some day, your own tags will join them." Ruth's voice was gentle with pride and love. She took back the small handful and carefully replaced them in the box, sealing up the false bottom. "Scott, honey, please, I'll sleep better if you'll wear this ring around your neck, but never on your finger."

Without another word, Scott lifted the loop of chain over his head, tucking the ring under his tee shirt. Ruth smiled, and caressed her grandson's cheek. "Thank you. Now, I'd better be heading up to bed. I've got a big meal to fix tomorrow. Don't you boys stay up too late."

"We won't, Grandma," Scott avowed. The brothers watched their grandmother climb the stairs then settled back on the couch, Scott pulling the ring out from under his shirt.

The two men sat, heads bowed over the ring, inspecting it closely. "So, what do you think? Is it magic?" Virgil asked quietly.

With a shake of his head, Scott put the ring back under his shirt. "I don't know what to think. Water witching is one thing, but this? I'll tell you, Virg, all I can say for sure is it will keep Grandma from worrying and that's good enough for me. I'm heading for bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay, Scott. Good night." Virgil stayed where he was watching his brother leave, a thoughtful look on his face. After a moment, he once again examined the small carved box by the light of the dying fire, pulling out the false bottom and reading each of the tags of his ancestors. With due reverence, he replaced them in the box and closed it up, setting it on the table. Sighing he got up, and with a poker, settled the fire for the night and headed for bed.


	4. Breakfast Time

"Get up. Come on, Virgil, get your lazy ass out of bed!"

Virgil rolled away from where his brother was trying to drag off his blankets and pulled a pillow over his head.

"Come on, Virg. I don't want to go alone. Wake up."

Sighing, Virgil cracked open an eye. "G'way, I wanna sleep."

"Don't make me take drastic measures."

Shutting his one eye, Virgil responded. "Scott, why can't I just for once sleep? Why do you always feel obligated to torture me?"

Scott chuckled, "You really want me to answer that? Come on, give in. You know I'm just going to stay here until you get up."

With a loud dramatic sigh, Virgil rolled to look at the clock. "Aw, it's only seven o'clock! Scott, just because you don't sleep doesn't mean I don't. Come back in a couple of hours, and we'll talk."

"In a couple of hours, I'll be eating breakfast at Lenshin's. Now get up and get moving."

It took a moment for his brother's remark to sink in. "Lenshin's? You're going to Lenshin's?"

"Yes, and so are you. Now, get your butt in gear, I want to get going."

Rubbing his eyes with a weary hand, Virgil gave in and sat up. "What are we going to Lenshin's for?"

Scott sat on the bed, as much to keep his brother from lying back down as anything. "Grandma thought it would be a nice surprise for us to go and join the kids for breakfast." Scott leaned in and said conspiratorially, "Actually, I think she just wants us out from underfoot. She's doing that kitchen whirlwind thing."

"Couldn't I just stay out from underfoot in bed?" Virgil asked wistfully.

"No, you can't. Now come on, I want to be out of here in twenty minutes." Scott hauled his brother to his feet. "Go. Shower. Shave. I'll be back in ten minutes, and if you're back in bed when I get here, you will suffer the consequences."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." Scott smiled dangerously.

"God, you're a bully." Virgil said as he headed for the bathroom, giving in to the inevitable.

Ten minutes later, Virgil was showered, shaved, and pulling on his jeans when Scott burst into the room carrying a large bucket of ice-rimed water. "Excellent! I guess I can go put this away."

Virgil glanced at the bucket resentfully and replied. "Give me a minute to put on my shoes, and we can go."

Smiling, Scott left the room taking the bucket with him. Virgil finished dressing and headed down the stairs. Almost without thinking, his steps turned toward the kitchen, where the heavenly aroma of coffee pulled him. Pushing through the door, he found his grandmother already busy at the sink. "Good morning, Grandma."

"Oh, good, you're just in time. Lift this into the oven for me, honey." Ruth gestured to a large blue enameled roasting pan.

"Sure." Virgil opened the oven door and hefted the roaster. "Wow, it's a big one this year!"

"For the price I paid, it should be! No, push it to the back. That's the way. Thank you, dear. Now, take this thermos and get going. Your brother is as antsy as a two-year-old on a sugar jag."

"You're sure you don't need me to stick around? I can help you get ready, you know."

"You're a good man, Virgil, but the best help you can give me is to get Scott out of the house. Mind you, I want all of you home by noon. That is when I'll need the fetching and carrying to start."

"Okay, Grandma. I'll see you later."

"Have a good time, dear."

Virgil took the thermos from the counter and headed out the door. Not seeing Scott anywhere in the downstairs rooms, he went out the front door, to find Scott sitting on the porch railing looking out over the bleak November landscape. "Okay, I'm all set." Virgil said, zipping his jacket against the cold.

"About time. Let's take your car."

Virgil looked over at the generic rental car that Scott had arrived in and grinned. "Good choice."

"Here, gimme the keys, I want to drive."

Cocking his head, Virgil replied, "Sure, but if you drive, then I get to fly."

Scott narrowed his eyes. "There is no way you are going to fly, Virg."

"Works for me." Virgil said smugly, trotting down the stairs to his car, getting in the driver's seat. Scott stood where he was, his face indicating he was trying to figure out where he had lost control. Finally, shaking his head in disgust, he moved to the passenger side of the car.

Getting in, he said, "So, how fast can this hunk of junk move?"

Virgil grinned and floored it, fishtailing up the gravel drive. Scott settled back with his own grin to enjoy the ride. The two brothers headed to the far side of the farm where their father had built an airstrip and hangar several years earlier. The trip took very little time considering the speed that Virgil pushed the Sportster to. Arriving, Scott nodded in satisfaction. "This is a good little car. I'm glad I talked Dad out of the SUV he wanted to get you."

Virgil, hearing for the first time that Scott had a hand in his graduation present, smiled. "You know, of course, I asked him for that SUV."

"I know. Virg, I love you like a brother, but damn, you have the taste of a soccer mom."

Virgil chuckled. "Well, I wanted the SUV for a lot of reasons, but I have to agree, I love this car."

"Of course you do," Scott snorted. "Who wouldn't? Let's take the SportJet."

Virgil grinned, knowing Scott had no intention of taking anything else than the quick little turbofan jet. "Okay."

The two brothers headed for the hangar, Virgil operating the big clamshell doors as Scott climbed aboard to start the checklist. When Virgil stuck his head in the cockpit, Scott said disgustedly, "She's low on fuel."

Virgil responded mildly, "All right." He disembarked and strode out the door and across the field. As Scott taxied out, Virgil headed to the massive fueling robot and with a few commands into the console, got it moving to the jet's fuel intake. The entire fuel loading operation took less than ten minutes.

When Virgil re-boarded, Scott was ready, firing up the engine before his brother took the co-pilot seat. As the plane taxied to the end of the strip, Virgil looked over the controls, going through his own mental checklist. Noticing, Scott remarked dryly, "If you're ready?"

Unfazed, Virgil completed his inspection and replied, "Sure. Let's go."

Scott pushed the throttle forward with more force than necessary, and the nimble little jet leapt forward, pushing both brothers deep into their seats. Virgil sucked in his breath, knowing what was coming, and sure enough, when the jet was off the ground, Scott put it into a sharp climb.

The plane hit 25,000 feet before Scott leveled her out. Virgil noticed that, as usual, his older brother was more relaxed and calm in the air than he ever was on the ground. Trying to mimic his brother's peace, Virgil pulled out the thermos. Pouring himself a cup, he drank deeply. "Ah, that's better."

Scott glanced over. "You going to share or what?"

Frowning fiercely, Virgil replied, "You get me out of bed in the middle of the night, you drag me away from my home, and you expect me to share the tiny amount of coffee I have?"

Scott eyed the half gallon-sized thermos and said casually, "How many barrel rolls do you think it would take to empty that thermos?"

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Virgil gave in. "Oh, okay, but only because you're family."

"Thank you, o munificent one."

"You're welcome." Virgil sniffed, and poured out a cup for his brother, carefully handing it to him.

Scott sipped, and nodded. "What is it about Grandma's coffee? I know she makes it just like everybody else does. Why is hers always so much better?"

"I make a point of never questioning the mysteries of the universe."

Scott chuckled, then turned his attention to the radio, reporting in to Kansas flight control, giving his flight plan and getting instructions on altitude and squawk codes. Virgil relaxed into the flight, watching the miles fly by as they sped to Kansas City. As the country gave way to more and more development, Scott got on the radio to Tracy Industries' semi-private airport at the edge of the city.

Their father had recognized the need for easy access to the city, and had for several years spearheaded redevelopment of a rundown area on the outskirts of the town. As part of the redevelopment, Tracy Airport had been built to accommodate the needs of a number of companies in the area.

The two strip airport was ringed with hangars owned by various Fortune 500 companies, but the best part, as far as the Tracys themselves were concerned was Lenshin's Restaurant, located adjacent to the Tracy Industries hangar. The restaurant, which featured oversized portions of American comfort food, was a favorite of all five of the Tracy sons.

Scott landed the jet with a feather touch, and taxied to park next to a much larger ten seat executive jet. Completing their shutdown checklist, the two young men got out and headed across the frigid tarmac for the warmth of the restaurant.

Hunching with his hands stuffed in his pockets, Scott shook his head. "And those guys spent the night outdoors? Maybe we should check the coroner's office, see if any frozen stiffs were picked up."

"Well, Alan said they had heat lamps, so they were probably okay."

"Hmm." Scott grunted, and pulled open the door to the restaurant, waving Virgil through ahead of him. Virgil entered breathing deep the scents of fresh baked breads and pastries, a smile on his face.

"Well, I haven't see you boys for a month of Sundays!" The hostess was a middle-aged woman who had been with the restaurant since opening.

Scott grinned, "Hey, Kristie! Lookin' gorgeous as usual!"

Smiling with pleasure, Kristie asked, "Is it just you two?"

"No, we're expecting the kids. Can we have that big table by the window?"

"For you boys, anything." The hostess took a couple of menus from behind the counter and led the way toward the back of the restaurant, to a table overlooking the runway. Scott and Virgil pulled out chairs as Kristie handed them the menus. "Let me just get you some coffee, then I'll send the waitress over."

"Thanks, Kristie, you're a lifesaver." Virgil said with heartfelt appreciation. He had practically lived on coffee during his college years, and never felt fully awake until he had several cups in the morning.

One of the great things about Lenshin's to the Tracy point of view was the coffee. Kristie brought over a large pot, and poured each man a mugful. Then she reached across the table to flick on a warming base, and left the pot. "Are your brothers coming soon? Shall I wait before sending the waitress?"

Scott and Virgil glanced at each other, confirming their desire, and shaking his head, Scott answered for them. "No, send her over. We're hungry, and we're not sure how long the guys will be."

Smiling, Kristie nodded and left gesturing to a young lady wearing the leather apron denoting a waitress. The girl came over, pad at the ready. "Hi, my name is Maddie, and I'll be your server today. Are you ready to order?"

Both young men sat a little straighter in the presence of the pretty young waitress, and Virgil said winningly, "What do you recommend?"

The waitress cocked her head, as openly appraising them as they were her. "How hungry are you? We've got a great sticky bun, or the chicken fried steak is really good?"

Scott's eyes lit up. "Sticky buns sound great. I'll have two and a side of bacon, please."

"Any you, sir?"

Virgil was tempted to say what he really wanted, which included the waitress, a large bed and plenty of time, but settled for "I'll have the same, but two orders of bacon, fried crispy."

Maddie reached for the menus, but Virgil pulled them away. "That's just for starters. We have more people joining us later."

The flicker of disappointment in the waitress's eyes said she assumed the additional people would be women. With her smile just a bit plastic, she nodded and said, "I'll have those buns warmed up for you."

As she walked away, both brothers leaned a bit to get a look at her backside, Scott muttering, "You just do that."

Left alone, Scott eyed his brother. "So, you have any time off next month?"

"I think I can get a four-day weekend around the fifteenth. You wanna stay in Houston, or you want me to come up here?"

Scott toyed with his coffee cup. "I think I'll come to you. Give John and Al a little quality time together."

Virgil smiled. "Uh-huh."

Scott grinned back. They both knew that if Virgil came home, they would end up doing 'family' things. Not a bad thing, but the two eldest Tracy siblings had discovered as they had gotten older that they were close friends as well as brothers, and shared similar interests and tastes. It was only natural that they would want some time together without their younger brothers with them.

Glancing out the window, Virgil gestured toward the Tracy hangar. Scott gazed out to see an SUV with a Tracy Industries logo on the side pull up next to the executive jet. As the brothers watched, a person dressed in a heavy down coat with a knit cap pulled down over his ears got out and walked to the jet, using keys to open up a hatch.

Although to some, the heavy clothing might have made the man anonymous, to the Tracy brothers, he was totally recognizable as their brother, Gordon. They watched as he started to unload various bundles and bags from the SUV, loading them into the jet. Virgil commented lazily, "Do you suppose we should go help?"

"No," Scott replied, "By the time we got out there, he'll be finished, and here come those sticky buns. I want to eat mine in peace."

Virgil glanced up to see Maddie headed their way with a large tray. She put down two plates covered with the huge, nut-crusted cinnamon buns, and a single large plate piled high with bacon. "Anything else for now?"

Scott eyed his breakfast and nodded. "Yes, we're going to need another cup, and two more buns, please. And we'd both appreciate it if you'd hurry with the buns."

Virgil nodded fervently, not wanting to lose any of his breakfast to his younger brother, who had never seemed to learn the difference between 'mine' and 'someone else's'. With a slightly mystified smile, Maddie nodded, and left.

Virgil and Scott returned to their observation of their brother. Gordon continued to load the jet. After several minutes, Virgil frowned. "How much junk did he buy?"

Scott shook his head. "My question is where are they going to put anything John or Alan got?"

Virgil nodded, mesmerized as Gordon seemingly loaded more bags than the SUV could have possibly carried. "I vote we get him a clown car for Christmas."

Finally, several minutes after Maddie had brought the cup and extra buns, Gordon closed and locked both the hatch of the jet and the doors of the SUV. He was noticeably dragging as he headed for the restaurant.

Scott and Virgil watched as he came in, and was greeted by one of the waitresses, Kristie apparently having gone on a break. After a moment's conversation, the waitress grabbed several menus and led Gordon to his own table, across the aisle from his brothers.

The two elder Tracys watched as the young man sat down, ordered coffee, and then just seemed to stare off into space. Virgil and Scott looked at each other, then Virgil said in a pitying tone, "Pathetic. One measly all-nighter and he's useless."

Scott nodded. "It's that Navy training. It dumbs them right down."

They watched as the comments finally registered on the young man, and he slowly turned his head. He stared at them for a moment, blinking, then a slow smile started. "Hi guys!"

"Hi yourself. Get over here, squirt!" Scott smiled. Gordon's smile turned into a huge grin as he got up from his table and moved over, sitting next to his oldest brother.

"Gimme a hug!" Gordon reached and grabbed his brother in a bearhug.

Disconcerted, Scott hugged back for a moment, then pushed his brother away. "No kissing."

Gordon's smile turned devilish, and he immediately made smacking noises. Scott rolled his eyes, and shoved the third plate of rolls in front of his brother. "God."

"For me? Great! Push that bacon over here, too."

Virgil snorted, "That's MY bacon. Order your own."

"Okay." Gordon replied calmly, as he reached past Scott to snag a couple of pieces, shoving them into his mouth to Virgil's sharp but futile protest.

"So, where are the others?" Scott asked.

"John's on his way. Allie's got hung up at Zottner's. Those shirts are gonna land up costing you a fortune, bro."

"What shirts?" Scott asked.

"Virg asked Alan to stop at Zottner's and pick him up a couple of ties and some shirts. Tragically, our dear brother has discovered that all the crazy grandmas shop there. Last I heard, he was fighting for his life in the underwear department." Gordon stated casually. "So, Scotty, I thought you couldn't get leave. What happened?"

"I'm shipping out to Izmir on December 29th, so they gave me five weeks."

Gordon stopped in mid-bite of his roll and looked seriously at his brother. "Hell of a way to spend New Years."

"Well, you can only handle that giant ball so many times." Scott said referencing the ball that dropped in Times Square to mark the New Year.

Gordon grinned. "True."

"What about you? Now that you've graduated basic training, where are you going to be posted?"

"I report to Groton on December fifth."

"Groton? Where's that? For that matter, what's that?" Virgil asked.

"It's the Navy's submarine school. It's at Groton Connecticut."

"Submarines? You're going into submarines?" Scott asked shifting uneasily.

"Yes and no. I report for an intensive three month course, then I serve for one four month tour, and then I report for duty at Seadeep base."

Scott and Virgil both looked at their brother stunned. Virgil finally cleared his throat. "I thought you wanted to sail the seven seas, not be crushed by them."

Gordon grinned. "You have to serve at one of the deep domes to qualify for WASP. I was lucky to get a billet in this program. By the time I'm twenty-five, I'll be commanding my own stingray class sub."

Virgil just shook his head. "Okay, John is officially right."

"Huh?" Gordon looked confused.

"John contends that when you were a baby, aliens came down and exchanged you for the real Gordon Tracy. He says they got the better end of the deal."

Never without a comeback, Gordon replied, "Well, I guess that explains why I'm so much better looking than the rest of you."

Scott punched his brother's shoulder, and Virgil threw a piece of bacon at the younger man. Grinning happily, Gordon glanced out of the window, then did a doubletake. "Well, what do you know."


	5. The Clan Meets

Scott and Virgil followed their brother's gaze to see a red Tracy Industries jet taxiing toward the hangar. "Did you guys tell Dad we'd be here?" Gordon asked.

"No, we sure didn't."

The three young men watched as the jet came to a halt, and after a few minutes, the ramp lowered, and their father stepped out onto the tarmac.

"He told Grandma he was coming straight home." Gordon remarked.

"Maybe he's just stopping to get a couple dozen sticky buns for us." Scott commented eyes narrowed.

Virgil snorted. "Yeah, and the tooth fairy has golden wings."

Gordon put on a look of mock devastation, complete with quivering lower lip. "He was going to Lenshin's without us!"

Scott and Virgil nodded, watching as their parent ran a hand lightly over the SportJet, then looked up at the restaurant, speculation on his face. The restaurant's windows were polarized to keep the warmth in, but the effect was of one way glass, and though Jeff looked directly at them, the lack of recognition on his face indicated they had not been seen.

"So, how do we punish this infraction?" Virgil said with some relish. Both he and Gordon looked to Scott as the natural leader.

Scott surprised them, though, saying calmly, "We don't. Give the guy a break. If you knew you were coming home to a houseful of Tracys, wouldn't you want to stop and relax a moment before you got there?"

Gordon shook his head sorrowfully. "Soft. He's gone soft on us, Virg."

With deceptive speed, Scott grabbed the younger man around the neck and rapidly knuckled his short red hair. "Owww! I give! Scott, I give!"

Scott released his brother, and stood as Jeff entered the restaurant. The Tracy patriarch came in expecting to find at least one of his sons, and when he spotted Scott, broke into a huge grin, striding over to wrap his arms around the young man. "Scott! It's good to see you, son!"

"Good to see you too, sir!"

Scott stepped back, and Gordon took his place in his father's arms. "Hey Dad."

"How's my Navy graduate?"

"Great, Dad." Gordon said happily.

Virgil stayed seated throughout, acknowledging that his brothers had been away from home while he himself had flown home just a few weekends ago. Jeff had other ideas, pulling Virgil into a strong hug. "It's good to have you home again, too, son."

"Thanks, Dad." Virgil grinned, warmed as ever by his father's regard.

"Where are your brothers?"

"There's John pulling up right now, and Al should be here in a few minutes." Gordon said.

Jeff gestured the three young men to the table. "When your grandmother suggested I stop for breakfast, I just assumed one of you had burned down the barn and you needed time to cover the evidence. I didn't realize it was going to be a meeting of the clan."

Scott smiled. "Well, I'm not saying one of them didn't burn down the barn, but actually Grandma just wanted us all out of the house for a couple of hours."

"Besides, we cleaned it all up yesterday morning before we left." Gordon said calmly, garnering looks of dismay from his father and older brothers. The ginger-haired Tracy didn't notice as he was intently staring out the window at where his brother John had just pulled up in a second Tracy Industries van.

Scott and Virgil glanced at each other before turning to watch as John climbed down out of the van and stood for a moment staring at the three planes parked on the tarmac. Apparently deciding he could wait until after breakfast to unload the van, he locked the door and trotted across to the restaurant. Virgil noticed that Gordon subtly relaxed.

John came in through the door, unwrapping a long knitted crimson muffler from around his neck. Back from her break, Kristie gestured to the back of the restaurant where Gordon popped up waving his arms wildly. Sighing heavily at the sight, John made a comment that had Kristie laughing as she handed him a menu. He made some other comment to which she nodded, then headed for the table.

When he realized who sat at the table with his exuberant younger brother, he broke into a huge smile. "Oh my God! Scott! What are you doing here?"

"Hey John. Damn, what's with the hair?" The two brothers hugged.

John smiled wryly. "I figure with you and Gordon doing the buzz cut thing, somebody in the family had to have a decent head of hair."

Jeff grunted as he stood to hug his son. "Please tell me you aren't growing a ponytail."

John laughed. "Hello to you too, Dad. To tell the truth, I have a bet on with Wes. Fifty bucks to whoever has the longer hair at the start of next term. Trust me, I'll be cutting it as soon as I can. It keeps getting into my eyes."

"I dunno, Johnny, I think you're better off with long hair." Gordon said. "You should have seen the girls falling over him in line. They practically ignored me."

"Aw." The three older brothers chorused in sympathy.

Any response Gordon would have made was stopped short by the arrival of Maddie the waitress. "Excuse me." She said as she leaned over to replace the half-empty pot of coffee with a freshly brewed one, giving Virgil a glimpse down her blouse.

Her smile was all for him as she said, "Are you folks ready to order yet?"

"We've got one more stray coming. But I think a tray of those sticky buns will hold us over while we wait for him." Jeff naturally took charge.

"And two double orders of bacon, fried crispy, please." Gordon piped up grinning winningly.

Maddie noted her pad and looked around at all the handsome faces and smiled liked she had won the lottery. "I'll have that up in a jiffy."

This time as she walked away, she put a bit of a wiggle in her walk, apparently aware of the five set of admiring eyes on her derriere. Virgil looked up from the view to see the speculative look in his brothers' eyes, and he frowned. "Hey, knock it off, you guys. I saw her first."

"Actually, I believe I saw her first." Scott said, sniffing.

"Yeah, but what would she want with old guys like you two? Besides, I'm going to be posted in a deep dome far away from wine women and song. I think you guys should all back off and give me a clear field." Gordon stated emphatically.

"A deep dome?" Jeff said sharply. "What do you mean, son? I thought you were going to apply for flight school."

The table suddenly grew quiet. Gordon froze for a split second, then turned to his father. "Well, actually, I applied for the Deepsea program. I report to Groton for submarine training on December fifth."

Jeff stared at his son for a moment, then asked gently, "Did you fail the flight school application, son?"

Virgil sat at a loss for something to say. Gordon had always been a bit of an odd duck, but then, so had they all, each in their own unique way. He doubted that his father really understood how really different Gordon was. When the younger Tracy had opted for the Navy right out of high school, their father had been bemused, but assumed Gordon just didn't want to be in Scott's shadow.

Of course, Virgil had known that there was nothing further from the truth. Gordon of all his brothers had never felt he was in anyone's shadow, not even their illustrious father's. Gordon just followed to the beat of a different drummer. Scott had once said it wasn't so much a different drummer as a different kazoo player.

Gordon smiled shaking his head. "Dad, I never applied to flight school. I graduated at the top of my class. People below me applied to flight school because they weren't good enough for the Deepsea program. Trust me, Dad, you're going to be proud of me, I promise."

Jeff shook his head, "That was never a question, Gordon. I couldn't be any more proud of you than I am. But son, why would you want to spend your life in a cold dim little box? You can't even open a window on a sunny day."

Gordon started to laugh, but it was John who answered. "Uh, Dad? I believe you just described your lunar vehicle."

All the brothers laughed at the startled look on Jeff's face. After a moment, he ruefully joined them. "All right, I get it. I don't understand it, but I get it."

Maddie approached the table with a heavily laden tray. She set out the platter of rolls and a pile of plates, then set two plates of bacon in front of Gordon who thanked her with a wink and a suggestive grin. She smiled back, biting her lip, and Virgil felt a surge of irritation.

When she left, Jeff said as he helped himself to some bacon, "Son, your grandmother has a ring that I think you should have while you're down in that dome."

"Um, Dad?" Scott interrupted. "Is this the ring you mean? She gave it to me last night." He pulled the ring out on its chain, holding it up the in harsh fluorescent light of the restaurant.

Jeff's eyes widened, and he turned his attention to his eldest. "Where?"

Scott flinched slightly at the tone, but held his head high as he replied, "Izmir. I report on December 29th."

Jeff took a deep breath, slowly nodding. John, for his part, frowned. "Izmir? As in Izmir, Turkey?"

"Give the boy a gold star."

"What's with the ring? Looks a little sissy, even for you, Scott." Gordon smirked.

"Never you mind, Gordon. Mom made the right decision. If you're going into a combat zone, you'll need that ring, son."

Virgil and Scott both raised their eyebrows. "Come on, Dad, you don't buy that magic ring story, do you?" Scott asked askance.

"Magic ring?" John's interest was peaked.

"Grandma says Grandma Ettie said it would keep people safe in war." Virgil said quietly.

"Aw, what's the point of that? I want the one that grants three wishes." Gordon stated.

"Grandma Ettie? Is that the water witch or the great white hunter?" John asked.

"Water witch."

"Dad? You didn't answer. You don't believe this ring has power, do you?"

Jeff looked as if he didn't want to answer. Finally, he shook his head. "You boys never met your great-grandpa Joe. That's a damn shame, because he was a wonderful man. When I was a kid, he used to take me with him when he went on VFW trips. I learned a lot of history, and an abiding respect for the sacrifices of those who have protected this country of ours." Jeff sat reflecting for a moment before continuing. "When I first joined the Air Force, he sat me down and told me about that ring. Grandpa Joe wasn't given to idle gossip, or flights of fantasy, but he was convinced that he survived World War Two because of that ring. He said his own father George had been caught in a gas attack in Belleau Wood in World War One, and was the only one left standing. Grandpa Joe would never admit it to it to Grandma Ettie, or Mom, but he believed in that ring. I believed in him, so I wore the ring, and there were times when I was sure I was a dead man, but I'm here before you today."

Scott looked over at his younger brother, a sudden serious frown on his face. "Gordy, maybe you'd better take it."

"What? Why?" Gordon held up his hands, forestalling the gift.

"That Deepsea base is at least as dangerous as anything I'll be facing. Take it."

"No way, man. I'm not the cannon fodder here. Grandma gave it to you. You keep it."

"Gordy…"

"No, Scott, Gordon's right. You're going to a combat zone, he isn't. Mom knew what she was doing in giving it to you and not your brother. Now put it away." Jeff ordered quietly.

Scott froze, a worried frown on his face. Virgil wondered if his overly protective older brother would think of a successful argument. The moment was broken when Gordon looked out the window and said brightly, "Oh, look. Here comes Alan."

The family looked out to see a large SUV coming at high speed onto the tarmac. To the gasps of the older Tracys, the car accelerated then the wheels screeched as driver the sharply turned the wheel, bringing the car to a skidding stop next to the two vans already parked.

John barely glanced up at the display, and Gordon muttered casually, "show off."

Jeff, Scott and Virgil all had looks of heart-stopped horror on their faces. When Alan hopped out, Jeff's face went beet red with anger. Scott and Virgil both started to breathe again, and Scott shook his head in disgust. Virgil, seeing the anger growing in his brother's eyes, felt compelled to step in. "Okay, you two, relax. Nothing happened. Alan obviously doesn't know you're here, he was just showing off for John and Gordon."

"He could have killed himself." Scott said tightly.

"I've got it under control, guys. One punishment, coming up." Gordon said happily, his eyes never leaving his brother on the tarmac.

"What?" Jeff said, confused. The other brothers, recognizing the signs, joined Gordon in watching intently as Alan skipped over to the ten-seat jet. The youngest Tracy fumbled with a key ring for a moment, then reached up to key open the elevated cargo compartment. The mechanical cargo door slid upward, releasing a torrent of boxes and bags onto the head of the hapless teenager.

Laughing heartily, the four Tracy brothers at the table did a group high five. Jeff shook his head, his anger evaporated. "There wasn't anything heavy there, was there, son?"

"Naw, it's mostly just clothes and stuff." Gordon sat watching, hugely entertained, as his younger brother, tried picking up the bags, but got twisted up, and fell on his butt.

Still chuckling, Scott got up and headed for the door, and after a moment, Virgil followed. John and Gordon looked at each other and shrugged, getting up to help. Jeff sat back, sipping coffee, content to let his sons help one another.


	6. Girl, Girl, Who Gets The Girl?

Following Scott out the door, Virgil shivered in the frigid Kansas morning. Scott gave a sharp whistle, and Alan, who had gotten up and started picking up the bags, looked up. Seeing his big brother, he let out a whoop and dropping the bags, came running, jumping into Scott's arms. "Scotty!!! Yayyyy! You're here!"

Scott who had naturally caught his brother, stood foursquare, holding his brother up, as Alan wrapped his long legs around him, holding his fists up in the air in exultation. After a moment, Scott dropped his hold, and Alan hopped to the ground, keeping one arm firmly over his brother's shoulders.

Scott shook his head, "Damn, you've grown another foot!"

Alan straightened proudly, "Yep. I'm now officially taller than Gordon. Give me a few more weeks and I'll be taller than you!"

Scott chuckled ruffling the teenager's spiky hair. "It's good to see you, kid." He looked over at the pile of bags and boxes on the ground. "I see you're still as messy as ever."

"Aw, that wasn't my fault. Somebody rigged it all to fall on me." Alan looked suspiciously at the bags. "Kale's. Friedlings." His head swiveled to lock a dead eye on Gordon.

"Hey, don't blame me. John was supposed to get here first. How was I to know he'd come straight in the restaurant without loading his stuff?"

"You had your cell, you could've warned me."

"What? And ruin a perfectly good trap? Get real." Gordon snorted.

"Come on, you guys, let's just get all this crap on board so we can get back in the restaurant." Virgil strode to the pile of bags.

Scott looked the situation over, and took command. "John, go up in the cabin, and open the inner hatch. Al, you and Gordy go unload the stuff from your car. Virg and I will start loading."

As the brothers hopped to do Scott's bidding, Virgil heard Gordon say to Alan. "Besides, I just saved your butt. Dad's here. He saw the way you drove up."

Alan stopped dead. "Ah, crap."

"I got your back. The sight of all those bags falling on your head distracted him. I took out the lightning. Of course, you're still going to have to deal with the thunder."

Alan glanced uneasily up at the restaurant. "I'm not going to get to go to the concert, am I?"

"It's a whole month away. With any luck you'll be back in his good graces by then."

"Really?"

Gordon looked at his brother pityingly, "Not a chance."

"Crap."

"Virg, help me with this, will you?" Scott called, forcing Virgil to leave off listening to his youngest brothers. Looking around, he found Scott up in the cargo hold, shoving a heavy looking box to the rear.

Striding over, Virgil started to climb up, but stopped when Scott gestured. "No, I need you down there. You hand up the stuff, I'll balance the heavy stuff in the hold and hand the clothes and light junk through to John."

"Okay." Virgil nodded, satisfied with the division of labor. He grabbed an armful of bags and shoved them up into the hold. Scott in turn pushed them on through to John. When Alan and Gordon started delivering heavier items, Virgil took them from their arms and handed them directly to Scott who acted as loadmaster to stow and balance the load.

Virgil stopped only once when picking up a Friedlings bag. He knew as he hefted it what was inside, and he paused a moment to peek. He found not two, but four boxes branded with the Hoverott logo. A satisfied grin came over his face, and he looked over at where Gordon and Alan were wrestling a huge box out of John's van. "Hey, Gordon, thanks for getting these for me."

Gordon glanced up. "No problem, big brother."

"What is that you guys have there?" Virgil asked curiously, trying to read the logo on the box.

"It's a Nuclear Cooker. Me and Johnny and Gordy got it for Grandma for Christmas. She's been eyeing one at Stott's for the last two months." Alan answered.

Virgil glanced up as Scott hopped down next to him. The two eldest brothers communicated with a look and Scott nodded briefly. "Those things are pretty expensive, aren't they?"

Both Gordon and Alan paused at the tone, and communicated with their own looks. Gordon grinned. "Yeah, they are, but you know, only the best for Grandma. Why? You guys want to kick in?"

"How much?"

"Well, if we divvy it up five ways, that comes to $750.00 apiece."

Scott cocked his head, crossing his arms, Virgil mirroring the pose. "John, get out here." Scott hollered.

John appeared in the hatchway, a curious look on his face. Seeing his older brothers squared off against the younger he paused, not sure which side he wanted. "What's going on?"

"You have the invoice on that Nuclear Cooker?"

"Aw, tell me you guys didn't drop it. I had to fight tooth and nail to get the damn thing."

"Nobody's dropped it, we just want to know how much you paid for it."

Instead of being relieved, John looked distinctly wary. "Why?"

"Because Virg and I want to kick in for it. We want to know how much you paid." As he said it, Scott's eyes never left his two youngest brothers.

Virgil positioned himself to watch all three of the younger men, determined to catch any signaling that went on. He was pretty sure the newest innovation in cooking did cost at least $3500.00. If it had been John quoting the price, he and Scott would have accepted it without quibble, but Gordon would raise the price just to see if he could get away with it.

John stood looking from one side to the other. Virgil hoped he'd make the right decision, and almost as if he was a mind reader, John shifted minutely toward his older brothers, adopting their pose, saying, "How much did they say it was?"

"Gordon said $3750.00."

John's jaw dropped for a split second before he started to snicker. "He said that?"

"He said $750.00 a piece."

John's eyebrows went up, and he laughed delightedly. "God, you got balls, kid, I'll give you that!"

Gordon shrugged grinning. John shook his head. "The whole point of doing this Black Friday shopping thing is you get unbelievable deals. The Nuclear Cooker was on sale for $1500.00. He was going to have you two pay for the whole thing, and we all get the credit."

"I say we get a piece of rope, drag him behind the jet for the trip home."

Scott shook his head. "No, that's okay. No harm done." The eldest Tracy brother turned away and climbed up into the hold of the jet. "Let's get it stowed and get back to our breakfast."

All four younger Tracy brothers stared, not quite sure how to take this turn of events. After a moment, Virgil shook himself. "You heard the man, get that thing over here."

Gordon and Alan looked at one another, and shrugging, picked the large unwieldy box up and with Virgil and John's help, got it up into the hold. Scott called out, "You guys go on ahead. I'll be in as soon as I have this locked down."

After a moment's pause, John, Gordon and Alan headed for the restaurant. Virgil climbed up into the hold and helped Scott position the box, then helped set up the cargo net that would secure the entire load. Virgil glanced around, his engineer's soul satisfied that Scott had set the load so that the plane would not be unbalanced in flight. "Are you really going to let that pass?"

"Hell no. We wait until he lets his guard down then we nail him." Scott responded casually.

Virgil smiled. "It's good to have you home, Scott."

Slapping his brother on the shoulder, Scott chuckled, "It's good to be home."

Warmed by the exertion, the two brothers hopped down to the tarmac, and Scott secured the hatch. "I'm ready for some real food, how about you?"

"Haunch of elephant would go down real easy about now."

Laughing, the two brothers headed for the restaurant. Opening the door, a rush of warm, cinnamon-scented air greeted them, and they threaded their way through the tables toward the back. Virgil winced inwardly when he saw the sullen look and bright red cheeks on Alan's face. Apparently the thunder had rolled over his youngest brother, and the four at the table were quiet.

Scott acted as if he didn't notice, knuckle rubbing Gordon's head, telling him to change seats so he could sit next to Alan. Gordon forfeited his seat with no argument, stuffing his face with one last piece of bacon as he moved. Scott sat down, and threw his arm across Alan's shoulders. "So, are you going to the Winter Ball? Have you got a girl?"

Alan always blossomed whenever Scott paid attention to him, and he did so now, shaking off his funk. "Well, I need your advice, actually. There's three girls, and I'm not sure which one to take."

The bold statement brought catcalls from the three middle Tracy brothers, but Scott just nodded sagely. "Okay, but I think we'll talk about it at home. In privacy."

"Aw, no, Scott! I want to hear!" Gordon's eyes were alight with mischief.

"Actually, I think we should discuss that statement you made earlier." John said quietly.

Gordon looked over at his brother. "What statement?"

"Something about 'John was supposed to get here first.'"

Gordon's eyes widened, but he looked up and said brightly, "Oh, look, here's Maddie the waitress. Hello, Maddie the waitress. Want to go out with me tomorrow night?"

Maddie's eyes flew open, but she kept her smile professional. "I'd love to, sir, but unfortunately, I already have a date."

"Aw, but you'll break it for me, won't you?" Gordon had his charm cranked up to high, but it was lost on the pretty young woman.

"I can't, but thanks for asking. Now, can I get you gentlemen some breakfast?" Maddie poised her pencil over her pad, and the Tracys took the hint, one and all. They each ordered breakfast, and Jeff ended by requesting yet another pot of coffee.

"Boys, what was that big box you were loading at the end there?"

"It's a Nuclear Cooker for Grandma for Christmas. Alan says she's been wanting one." John replied.

"She has? She never said anything to me about it."

"You know how Grandma is, Dad. She never asks for anything for herself. But everytime we've been in town she's just kind of stopped in front of Stott's and looked at it." Alan said, his mouth full of the last crumbs of sticky bun.

Jeff harrumphed. "I'm not sure I trust that technology. Seems a bit iffy to me."

"No, I've seen the specs on it, Dad, and it's solid. If you've got any doubts about it, why don't you have Brains take a look?" Virgil mentioned one of his father's best engineers.

Jeff shook his head. "Brains has more important work. He's moved to the island so he can work in peace."

"Oh, yeah, about that. Dad, did you know Grandma doesn't want to move?"

"What do you mean, son?"

"I was talking to her last night, and she said that when you move down to the island next summer, she isn't going to go."

Everyone at the table stared at Virgil in stunned silence. Alan was the first to speak. "But I've already been accepted at Florida State. I can't get the classes I want at Topeka."

John said hesitantly, "Maybe I could transfer."

Jeff shook his head. "Nobody's transferring. Alan, you'll go to Florida. Mom is going to come with me. Don't you boys worry about it."

Jeff's emphatic statement should have put the matter to rest, but Virgil could tell by the worried looks all around that no one believed Ruth Tracy would just meekly follow her son.

"Dad, why that island anyway? Surely it can't be good for the business. You've always told us that you can't run a business long distance."

Jeff looked pensively at his five sons, then responded. "I have my reasons, Scott. I can't go into them with you boys at the moment, although I'll explain it all some day. Suffice it to say that I wouldn't do it if I didn't feel it was important." Jeff smiled, "Besides, don't you boys want to be able to vacation on a tropical paradise?"

Virgil glanced out the window at the bleak Kansas sky, and had to admit, warm breezes and white sands were tempting.

Alan asked a bit tentatively, "Can we bring girls?"

Virgil snorted a laugh along with his brothers. Alan had been a bit of a late bloomer, showing no interest in the opposite sex until last summer, but now he seemed determined to make up for lost time. Jeff stirred his coffee and responded with Parental Answer # 4: "We'll see."

There was a pause in the conversation as each of the Tracys contemplated the pleasures of the South Seas, but Gordon, who never believed that silence could be golden, said with a sly grin, "Hey, Al, guess what Grandma gave Scotty?"

"What?"

"A magic ring!"

"A ma… you mean like a… a… like you use for… sex?" Alan asked hesitantly, honestly confused.

Virgil, caught in the act of sipping coffee, spewed it out as John and Gordon howled with laughter. Jeff sat looking shocked that son should know of such things. Scott's look of righteous indignation sent his brothers into fresh spasms of laughter.

Alan looked around, flushing red in embarrassment. Scott reached over and lightly cuffed his brother behind the head. "I don't need any help from Grandma in that department."

"Well, what did he mean, magic ring? Can I see it?"

Scott pulled the chain out from under his tee shirt and dangled the ring so that his brother could see it. Alan looked at it for a moment then frowned. "Doesn't look so magic to me."

"Grandma says it keeps the boogeyman away." Gordon chortled.

John, wiping away tears of mirth, asked, "Can I see it for a moment?"

Sighing, Scott lifted the chain over his head, and handed it over, saying, "Put it on your finger, and Grandma will kill you. She says it will only protect people as long as it is never worn on a finger."

John took the chain and holding up the ring, made a show of reading an inscription on it. "And… in the… darkness… bind them."

Scott grabbed the ring back. "Gimme that! You guys just haven't got any appreciation."

Jeff, who had gotten over his surprise at Alan's comment and been laughing right along with his sons, held out his hand. "Here son, you boys just need to know how to work it." Taking the ring, he held it up to his lips and blew a whistling sound, causing all five young men to dissolve again into laughter.

When he caught his breath, Virgil squeaked out, "Where's the compass?"

"And the decoder! It has to have a decoder!" Gordon cried out.

Scott straightened in mock indignation. "You know, Grandma would have you all on kitchen duty for a month if she heard you."

Jeff shook his head still chuckling, "Actually, son, when she first gave it to me, she told me if it turned a nice bluey-green it meant I was in a happy mood."

All of the Tracy men grinned delightedly at this evidence of Ruth's wit. Scott put the ring away as Maddie approached the table with a cart covered with platters holding their breakfast. As she expertly passed the plates out, Virgil thought he'd take a crack at it. "So, if you're busy tomorrow night, how about going out with me Sunday afternoon? The American at the Crown Center has a really great brunch?"

As he expected, the idea of brunch at the ritziest restaurant in town brought Maddie's head up. Virgil could see the temptation in her eyes and he mentally started planning his appeal to his father for a loan to cover the cost. In the end, though, she smiled and shook her head. "I've always wanted to go there, but I'm sorry, I have to say no. Thanks for offering though."

"How about me, then? We could go ice-skating or something?" Alan piped up, grinning his best.

Maddie just laughed, and shaking her head, walked away. Virgil looked across the table at his young blond brother and frowning, addressed Scott. "Smack him for me, would you?"

Without missing a beat, Scott reached up and cuffed Alan behind the head. "Ow! What's that for?"

With deadly sarcasm, Virgil responded, "Kid, if she didn't want me, what on earth makes you think she wants you?"

Alan straightened up with dignity. "I just figured I'd cheer her up. She was only getting offers from bowsers, and I thought she'd like to know that good-looking guys appreciate her too."

"Oh, well then, I'd better make a pass." Scott said to the jeers of his brothers.

The family settled down in the presence of good food, and conversation died down while they ate. Some time later, all six had finally pushed away their plates, and Jeff said, "What else did you boys get? That was quite a haul I saw you loading."

John looked a bit nonplussed. "Actually, I think I finished all of my Christmas shopping."

"Me too." Gordon chimed in. "Of course, I needed too. I won't be home for Christmas this year."

Virgil heard the wistfulness of the tone, and cracked, "So you mean at least two of my presents won't have been bought on Christmas Eve at the Gas and Gulp?"

"Three. I got my shopping done too." Alan grinned.

Four sets of eyes turned to Scott who looked around and sniffing said, "Don't worry, Virg, I'll uphold the family tradition."

Everyone laughed. It was indeed a family tradition for at least one of the brothers to wait until the last possible moment to do the shopping, and land up at a convenience store at midnight on Christmas Eve.

"It just wouldn't be Christmas if I didn't get at least one gift wrapped in a plastic shopping bag." Jeff smiled. He pulled out his wallet. "Alright, boys, let's get this show on the road. John, you're comfortable handling the ten-seat?"

"Yes, sir. It's not a problem."

"Scott, why don't I take the SportJet, and you can bring home the Lear."

Virgil grinned inwardly. Their father loved the speedy little jet as much as Scott did, and only flew the more staid Lear when on business. Scott gave no sign of any discontent, simply nodding and replying, "Okay, Dad."

"Alan, you come with me. We need to have a little talk."

Alan's eyes widened in dismay. "But I have to return the SUV."

"Give the keys to John. He and Gordon can take care of that. Come along. We'll see you boys at home." Jeff got up leaving enough money to pay for all of their breakfasts and a hefty tip besides. He led the way with Alan trailing dejectedly behind him.

The four remaining brothers watched them leave, Gordon shaking his head sadly, "I always said he'd never make his eighteenth birthday."

"No, I always said you'd never make it to eighteen." John responded dryly.

"Actually, I always said it about you." Virgil commented.

There was a pause before Scott ended it with "I'm surprised any of you made it past ten."

Chuckling, the brothers stood, putting on coats. Scott again took command. "Gordon, you, Virgil and I will drive the cars over to the hangar. John, you taxi the ten-seat over, and then you can bring Virg and I back to the Lear."

Scott led the way through the tables of the restaurant. From his position bringing up the rear, Virgil saw Maddie waiting for them to pass, and he felt regret at striking out with her. He was considering making a second attempt, when he saw her reach out to John, and smile seductively, "Tomorrow at eight, right?"

Murmuring softly, John smiled. "Right. I'll see you then."


	7. Thanksgiving

Dumbstruck, Virgil followed his brother out of the restaurant. Waiting for them, Gordon asked suspiciously, "What did she say to you, Johnny?"

"Nothing."

"She told him she'd be ready at eight tomorrow." Virgil revealed disgusted.

Gordon's jaw dropped dramatically. "What? When did you make a date with her? You never even went to the bathroom."

John just smiled enigmatically. Scott shook his head chuckling. Throwing his arm around John's neck, he pulled the younger man over and knuckle rubbed his head. "You sly dog, you! You should have said something. Save your poor brothers the effort."

"I wanted her to see what else was available. Makes me look all that much better."

The comment earned John a couple of punches in the arm, but the blond Tracy brother just smiled. The four young men paused to watch as their father completed his taxi to the end of the runway. Virgil said, "Five bucks says the wheels are off the runway before they hit YRC."

The hangar in question was impossibly close to the end of the runway and would require a very short run before wheels up. Both Scott and John shook their heads, neither willing to bet against their father's skill. Sure enough, they heard the jets whining to a high pitch before the brakes were released, and the little SportJet leapt into the air several feet before the indicated mark.

Smiling in satisfaction, the four brothers each went to their designated vehicles. Scott took Alan's SUV and led the way to the far side of the hangar, using a remote to open a garage-sized door. He drove his vehicle in followed by Virgil and Gordon. Parking in designated spaces, the brothers followed a set routine, signing off on a clipboard with mileage and gas levels. Together they headed for the door, arriving at the same time as John in the ten-seat executive jet.

Hopping aboard, there was a traffic jam, as all three tried to get into the cockpit. "Hey, you guys are just riding for ten feet back to the Lear. Get out of my way!" Gordon demanded.

Scott frowned, but gave way. Virgil, like Scott, didn't like giving up the cockpit to anyone, but realizing the sense in what Gordon said, stood back, crouching in the aisle to see out the front windscreen.

The jet trundled over to the other side of the hangar where the Lear jet beckoned. Scott gestured Virgil to proceed him out of the ten-seat, and when they both had disembarked, he carefully sealed the door, his eyes expertly scanning the jet to make sure there were no visible problems.

Satisfied, Scott moved over to the Lear Jet with Virgil throwing a thumb's up to John, visible in the cockpit. By unspoken agreement, Scott and Virgil waited watching as John taxied to the end of the runway. Virgil remarked dryly, "Five bucks says the wheels are still on the ground at Danaher."

Scott chuckled. The Danaher hangar was the last hangar and well beyond the point that a take off would have to be aborted if not wheels up. The two brothers watched critically as after a power build up the jet started to roll. Virgil sensed Scott next to him willing the plane into the air, and in truth, John had lifted off at just about the point that Virgil himself would have lifted off.

Satisfied that a crash was not imminent, the two eldest Tracy sons boarded the Lear jet. Together they went through the checklist, and headed to the end of the runway. "Care to bet on where I'll leave the runway?" Scott asked.

"Hell no. No matter what I say, you'll beat it, and I prefer to keep my breakfast right where it is, thank you very much."

Scott chuckled. "I can do smooth. Watch this."

As soon as he had his clearance, Scott sent the jet speeding down the runway. Virgil had to admit the takeoff was as smooth as glass. "Very nice. Very nice indeed."

"I call it my Grandma take off."

"Oh, ha ha." Virgil snorted. "When do you suppose John made that date?"

"Who knows? Probably on his way home from school."

"Damn blond. You know it's the hair, right? I mean, no self-respecting woman is going to pick John over me under normal circumstances, right?"

Scott glanced over, "Who are you trying to convince?"

"Oh, shut up."

Scott chuckled and turned back to his piloting. Virgil remained quiet, frowning slightly as he thought. After a while, Scott said quietly, "It is that blond hair, Virg. Tell you what, tomorrow let's go into Topeka, do a little night clubbing. I guarantee the girls will fall all over you. At least the ones that aren't in my lap, anyway."

Virgil smiled. "That sounds great, Scott. You're on."

Feeling better, Virgil spent the rest of the short trip gazing out the window. They were within five minutes of landing when they passed the slower ten-seat. As they reached the outer markers of their home strip, Virgil could see his father waiting at the hangar, watching their approach. "Dad alert."

"I see him." Scott said confidently. As the wheels touched down, Virgil thought not even their father could find fault with Scott's feather touch on the controls. Scott braked the jet to a stop, then quickly taxied to get out of the way of the larger jet coming in behind them.

Seeing the ten-seat on approach, Scott paused, and the two brothers watched with a critical eye as John brought the bigger, heavier jet in. Virgil heard Scott suck in a breath as the jet drifted off the center line, but before either young man could say anything, the line was corrected, perhaps a bit jerkily, and then the jet was down, and braking. Both Scott and Virgil let out held breaths.

Scott completed his taxi, parking the Lear on its accustomed spot in the hangar. Together, he and Virgil made short work of the post flight checklist, and they disembarked just as the ten-seat was rumbling into the hangar. In silent accord, both brothers headed for the ten-seat to help unload.

Virgil was a bit surprised when Alan came bouncing up, all smiles. "Hey, guess what you guys? Dad's going to let me go to NASCAR camp over Christmas vacation! He said if I was going to drive like a maniac, he would see to it that I learned to do it safely!"

Virgil's eyebrows went up, but Scott frowned. "You won't be home for Christmas?"

"Yeah, I will. It starts on the 26th and runs for five days, so I won't miss Christmas or New Years. God, I can't believe it! Oh, I gotta go tell Gordy!" The excited teenager, barely gave the ten-seat jet a chance to come to a full stop before he was unsealing and opening the door.

Jeff walked up and Scott and Virgil just stared at him. Seeing the looks on his eldest sons' faces, his eyebrows rose questioningly. "What?"

"You're sending Alan to NASCAR camp?"

Jeff ducked his head. "Well, he needs to learn how to drive safely, and God knows, I don't have the time or patience."

Virgil and Scott looked at each other, and it was Scott who replied. "If I had pulled a stunt like that when I was sixteen, you would have whaled the tar out of me."

Virgil nodded, but Jeff just smiled. "Well, first off, he's seventeen, not sixteen. And secondly, you would never have done anything so foolish, either of you. And thirdly, the truth is, I had already gotten that NASCAR package for his Christmas present. I just figured if I let him know now, he'll toe the line at least until Christmas, and that's worth its weight in gold."

Scott and Virgil both chuckled. Alan came out of the plane talking excitedly to Gordon and John who both followed him. When the three youngest Tracys saw their father and brothers standing there, they stopped dead in their tracks. They glanced uneasily at one another then John stepped forward. "Um, you guys can head on home, we'll unload the jet."

Nothing raised red flags quicker than a Tracy son willing to do a job that would normally be shared. Jeff asked bluntly, "Why?"

Gordon just grinned. "Because we have unwrapped Christmas presents here."

Scott shook his head, "Guys, are you forgetting, Virgil and I helped you load this stuff?"

"Yeah, but that was when we were in a hurry to get into the restaurant. You didn't have time to peek."

Scott sighed. "All right, but we're going to help with that Nuclear Cooker at least. If Virg and I are helping to pay for it, we're going to be damn sure you clods don't drop it."

John nodded agreement, and Gordon and Alan shrugged, so it was with the help of all five brothers and their father that the bulky box was lifted down and shifted to a storage area. Jeff inspected the colorful logo on the side of the box and said. "Well, I guess I'd better get Mom some of the cookware that works with this thing."

"Already covered, Dad." John grinned.

Jeff frowned looking into the heavily loaded cargo hold. "Maybe I'd better stick around. I wouldn't want to duplicate any gifts that you boys got."

"No deal, Dad. You can tell us what you have in mind and we'll tell you if we got it." John stated emphatically, arms folded across his chest.

"Yeah, nice try, Dad. We all know you just want to shake the boxes, see what you got." Alan grinned.

Jeff adopted an air of superiority. "That is the last thing on my mind."

All five sons laughed at the statement, and Virgil said, "Come on, Dad, Scott and I will race you home."

Jeff's eyes lit up. He nodded and casually threw an arm over Virgil's shoulder. "Well, I guess I shouldn't complain if those three are actually willing to work. Let's go and get some beer, boys."

Jeff led the way, still holding onto Virgil, Scott trailing behind. When they reached the hangar door, Jeff paused. "We'd better close this up. It's mighty cold out there." He hit a control on the wall and stood back. Virgil frowned slightly, and started forward to get through the door before it shut completely. Jeff stopped him with a hand on his arm. "No, son, we'll go out through the side door."

"Okay, Dad." Virgil sighed and watched as the big clamshell doors closed completely.

He and Scott followed their father to the side door. Jeff opened the door and turned, holding something up for his sons to see. It had barely registered that Jeff was holding the keys to the Sportster, before the older man cackled and threw them hard over his son's heads, deep into the hangar. With a maniacal laugh, Jeff slammed the door in Virgil's startled face.

Scott reacted fast, diving for the door, yelling over his shoulder, "Get the keys!"

Virgil. belatedly realizing his father meant to win the race at all costs, swore and scuttled after the keys. Scooping them up he ran for the door, his younger brothers cheering him on. His hand was on the doorknob when he heard the roar of his father's Bugatti. Jerking the door open, he was just in time to see his father pull away, Scott in the passenger seat, grinning and waving.

Jaw dropping at the betrayal, he ran to the Sportster, determined to beat the pants off of them. He shifted up through the gears in record time, and though he got close, the red Bugatti pulled up to the house before him. Shutting the Sportster down, Virgil sat breathing hard, grinning like an idiot. Despite the loss, the drive had been exhilarating.

He was still sitting there when Scott tapped on the driver's side window. Rolling it down, Virgil cried, "Traitor!"

"Aw, Virg, I couldn't help it. He blackmailed me."

"Blackmail? What do you mean?"

"He said if I got in the car, he'd let me drive it while I was here."

Virgil got out of the Sportster. In a deadly tone, he stated, "You picked a car over me."

"Virgil, look at that." Scott pointed at the generic rent a car standing next to the sleek Bugatti. "Which would you want to be seen in?"

Virgil tried to maintain a severe expression, but after a moment, smiled shaking his head. "It's called a bribe, not blackmail, Scott."

Scott grinned winningly, "I prefer to think I would never accept a bribe at your expense, little brother. Blackmail, I have no choice."

Virgil laughed shaking his head. He'd been subject to this kind of logic before, and knew there was no argument he could offer that would succeed. Scott slapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go help Grandma before she comes looking for us."

The two brothers headed up the porch stairs and into the house, Scott calling out, "Grandma, we're home!"

Entering the kitchen, they found their father at the sink, washing the family's good china. Virgil moved over to start drying. Ruth was at the farm table, and called Scott over, putting him to work polishing the silverware.

The three men fell into the familiar holiday chores and when the younger sons came in an hour later, they too got to work, Gordon ironing the napkins and tablecloth, John running the vacuum, and Alan doing general fetching and carrying. Virgil reflected that it was probably an unusual way to do a holiday, but they were so used to it, that Scott had written and complained last year when he was stuck on base, and had nothing to do but watch football on TV.

After an hour of work, the house was sparkling, the table set, and the smell of roasted turkey and pumpkin pies wafted throughout. Virgil went upstairs to take a shower and clean up. As he was putting on a clean shirt and sports jacket, he looked over at his rumpled bed, and made himself a promise to lock his door when he went to bed that night.

He came out of his bedroom, and headed for the stairs. He was surprised to see Scott, standing frozen at the bottom of the stairs looking out at something in the living room. Curious, he trotted down the stairs, Scott saying as he came down, "Okay, this is seriously freaking me out."

Virgil reached his brother and peered into the living room at an odd sight. Their three younger brothers were lined up on the sofa, each intently staring off into space, their hands and arms waving in strange patterns in unison. Each of the young men had a round metal piece complete with blinking light attached at their temples, and a small seemingly innocuous box on the coffee table in front of him.

Jeff came up from behind, declaring, "My God, we've been invaded by the pod people."

Virgil sighed, "I wanted to be a pod person, but they couldn't get me one." Raising his voice, he called, "Johnny, I want to try."

John seemed to refocus his eyes, and nodding said, "Okay, after dinner."

Ruth entered the room, and saw her grandson's movements and pursed her lips. "Alright, boys, dinner is ready, put your toys away."

A Tracy never had to be told twice where food was concerned, and all three young men made an identical waving motion before pulling off the temple receiver and jumping to their feet. "Okay Grandma!"

Virgil stood back for a moment watching as his family preceded him into the dining room. It was hard not to feel at least a little melancholy. He supposed this would be the last Thanksgiving with them all together, at least here on the farm. He tried to imagine his brothers married with kids and homes of their own, and a life where they only saw one another once or twice a year.

He shook his head at the thought, and decided that whatever the future would bring, he would enjoy the present now. Scott looked up from his place next to his father and smiled. "Come on, Virg, let's eat."

Smiling, Virgil joined his family.

The End


End file.
